


hate me / touch me / need me / love me

by andabatae



Series: One-Shots and Drabbles [22]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Dirty Talk, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hair-pulling, Hate to Love, Non-Linear Narrative, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, coworkers in lust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:21:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21577507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andabatae/pseuds/andabatae
Summary: Coworkers Kylo and Rey can't stop fighting about anything and everything. They hate each other... right?At the company holiday party, the simmering tension between them finally boils over...ORA smutty enemies-to-lovers office AU.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: One-Shots and Drabbles [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1387747
Comments: 127
Kudos: 1018
Collections: The Pink Ladies Love Exchange





	hate me / touch me / need me / love me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shestoolazytologin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shestoolazytologin/gifts).



He’s a dark shadow in the doorway, his unbuttoned suit coat spreading like a hint of black wings as he braces his hands at the top of the doorframe. Rey shivers at the reminder of how tall he is. How broad. He fills the doorway, claiming the empty space in a way no one else can.

“You ran away from me,” he says in his dark chocolate voice. It sounds almost like a threat.

Almost.

-*~~~*-

It begins with the pen.

The Kuat Legacy 5000 rollerball pen, to be precise, although Rey doesn’t know that at the time. She’s on the phone with a client, pacing back and forth in the office while trying to plead her case for why an additional investment of $40,000 a month is reasonable, when the client tells her he has a specific list of requirements in order for this deal to go through.

“Sure,” Rey says, lunging for the nearest pen and pad of paper. It just so happens to be Kylo Ren’s pen and pad of paper. The paper isn’t anything special, but the pen is sitting in a fancy holder on Kylo’s desk, like he wants to display it, rather than use it.

Rey doesn’t understand the point of a tool that exists to be admired, not used, so she grabs the pen—the _black lacquer engraved pen with darkforce red ink and a platinum clip studded with diamonds_ , as she will later learn—and jots down a few notes. The client launches into a new tangent, so Rey tosses the pen back onto Kylo’s desk and keeps pacing, determined to land this upsell if it’s the last thing she does.

Kylo finds her much later that day, once the revised contract has been sent over and Rey is halfway through her second martini at the in-office bar.

_Tall. Big._

Rey hates that those are the two words that hit her first every time she sees him, but she hates all the other words her pathetic brain comes up with more. _Handsome. Dark. Intense. Probably delicious._

Kylo Ren is a nightmare dressed up like a fantasy, his broad shoulders filling his black suit to perfection, his austere face putting any fallen angel to shame. His dark hair is soft and wavy, his lips criminally lush, but his eyes are the worst. They’re probably listed as plain brown on his driver’s license, but they contain shades Rey has no words for and emotions she _wishes_ she had words for.

The in-office bar is just a well-stocked cabinet in the kitchen, but Rey is alone there, since Finn and Rose just left for home. Rey takes public transportation, so she felt no need to deny herself that second martini. As Kylo Ren stalks towards her, though, looking like he’s about to commit murder, she regrets not having all her wits about her.

“Johnson.” He says her last name like a curse.

She eyes him up and down, taking a leisurely sip of her martini before answering. “Ren.”

She’s relatively new at Force Consultancy, but her impression of Kylo so far is that he’s arrogant, volatile, and damn good at what he does. That combination was intriguing at first, but he’s been rude as fuck to her, so Rey has written him off as an arse whose good looks don’t make up for his utter failure of a personality.

If only she could stop obsessing about those good looks.

He plucks the glass out of her hand and sets it down on the counter. “Hey,” she protests, outraged at his cavalier handling of her drink. “That’s mine.”

His nostrils flare. “And you know what’s mine, Johnson?”

“What?”

“The Kuat Legacy 5000.”

She stares at him, not comprehending, but he just keeps glaring at her, as if she’s supposed to understand that nonsensical string of words. “Is that a fancy car or something?” she finally asks. “Are you seriously bragging about the contents of your garage?”

A muscle under his left eye twitches, and then he grabs her hand and tugs her after him as he storms back to his desk. Rey’s heart leaps at the physical contact, and a spark races from her fingertips through her entire body. His hand is huge, swallowing hers up.

He drops her hand the second they reach his desk, as if her fingers burned him. “That,” he says, pointing to the pen lying haphazardly on his desk where Rey had tossed it, “is the Kuat Legacy 5000. Black lacquer engraved, darkforce red ink, platinum clip studded with diamonds.”

She rolls her eyes. “You name your pens? Why not something simple and to-the-point, like ‘Kylo Ren’s Very Fancy Small-Dick-Compensation Writing Implement'?” Her alcohol-fuzzed brain catches up with what he just said. “Wait, diamonds?”

He looks at her funny—probably because she just accused him of compensating for a small dick with a fancy pen. Oops. _In martini veritas,_ and all that. Force Consultancy is an old boys' club, though, and Rey’s heard far worse from the older sales reps. “Yes, diamonds,” he says, his syllables precise enough to cut.

Rey snorts. “Bloody stupid thing to put diamonds on, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask you,” Kylo says. “But imagine my surprise when I found my five-thousand-dollar pen lying on my desk.”

Rey’s thoughts screech to a halt. “Five _thousand_?”

He looks down his nose at her. “Yes, five thousand. A bonus from Snoke when I signed my first six-figure contract.”

Of course. Snoke, the former CEO, is the reason Force Consultancy is such an old boys’ club, despite attempts by the new CEO, Luke Skywalker, to clean it up. Snoke is also currently serving a long prison term for embezzlement, bribery, and corruption. “Well, I’m very happy for you and your pen," she says. "May you live a long and pompous life together.”

He steps closer, but Rey refuses to yield. She lifts her chin to keep staring him down. Or staring him _up_ , she supposes. “Mitaka told me you used it to take notes on a call,” he says.

“I did.”

“And then you tossed it on my desk carelessly.”

“I’m not sure carelessly is the right word...”

“Rather than placing it back in its platinum, diamond-encrusted holder.”

Rey sputters. “The holder has diamonds, too? Okay, that is really too much.”

Kylo works his lips as if gnawing on his own anger, and Rey’s attention is riveted to them. How are they so red? Does he use gloss? A lip plumper? If so, maybe he can give her beauty recommendations...

“First of all,” he says, “don’t touch my pen ever again. Or any of my other things. Keep your grubby hands to yourself.”

Rey’s jaw drops. “Grubby?” She holds one hand up in front of him, showing him her clean, neatly trimmed nails. “I bet my nails are nicer than yours.”

In response, he holds up his own hand, and okay, Rey has to admit his nails are nicer. They’re neatly filed, probably by some expensive manicurist, and _oh wow_ , how has she never realized exactly how long and thick his fingers are? Rey blinks at them, mind immediately going somewhere filthy.

Apparently satisfied with her awe at his nails—which is really her awe at his fingering potential—he drops his hand to his side. “That’s it.”

“Wait, you said ‘first of all.’ That implies a second point.” Rey meets his gaze again. Is it just her, or is his expression hotter than it was before? There’s a sizzling quality to the way he’s looking at her, but that’s probably just a side-effect of his hatred for pen-borrowers.

“Second of all,” Kylo says. “Don’t touch my fucking pen.”

He places the ludicrously expensive pen precisely back in its holder, glares at her one final time, then turns and storms away.

-*~~~*-

“I wouldn’t call it running,” Rey hedges, retreating a step at a time until her back hits the wall of the small conference room he’s cornered her in. Down the hallway, the office holiday party is continuing in the hotel ballroom they'd rented out for the evening, but in here, it’s quiet and dark.

Kylo stalks after her, long legs eating up the space until he’s right in front of her. This time, he braces his hands above her head, caging her in. The breath whooshes out of Rey, and her legs tremble. She feels dizzy.

“What do you call leaving the dance floor in the middle of the song?” Kylo asks.

“Tired feet?”

He shakes his head. “You ran, Rey, and now you’re hiding.” He leans in, breath puffing warm against her ear. “I wonder… what are you so afraid of?”

-*~~~*-

Rey stalks over to Kylo Ren’s desk and slaps her hand down on the polished wood surface. He doesn’t flinch, just raises a damning eyebrow and carries on with his conversation. He’s on the phone with a prospective client, and she can tell by the subtle menace in his tone that he’s about to seal the deal by utilizing his favorite negotiation tactic: fear.

Rey gets sales through charm and good instincts, but Kylo prefers to terrorize his prospects until they believe only one person in the entire universe can help their cause: him. The most annoying part of the tactic is that it works. She and Kylo are neck-and-neck this quarter for most sales in the pipeline.

“Excellent,” Kylo says. “I’ll have the contract over to you this afternoon. It’s a pleasure doing business with you.” He hangs up, then crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. “Well, Johnson?”

Rey scowls at him. “You drank my protein shake. Again.”

He shrugs, drawing her attention to the width of his shoulders and the bulge of his biceps against his suit coat. “I had to skip lunch.”

“That _was_ my lunch, you numbskull!”

He eyes her up and down, attention lingering on her hips, her waist… her breasts? “Why would a skinny thing like you drink protein shakes? Trying to bulk up?”

She hates being called skinny. It’s not her fault she has a fast metabolism. “First of all, keep your filthy hands off my protein shakes. I do lift weights, as it turns out, and I don’t have time for the long, expensive lunches you favor, so if I don’t drink the shake, I don’t eat at all.”

His gaze wanders over her again. “Must be tiny weights,” he speculates.

“Ugh!” She throws her hands up in frustration. “One of these days I’m going to murder you, and no jury will convict me.”

She turns to go, about to beg for a few crisps from Finn’s lunch, but the dark rumble of Kylo’s voice stops her. “You said ‘first of all.’ That implies at least one more point.”

Rey’s gritted teeth don’t quite contain her screech of rage. She storms off before she does something rash like break his stupid fucking pen over her knee before throwing it at his head.

Kylo Ren is the _worst_.

-*~~~*-

Rey tries to ignore the shivers racing up and down her bared arms. She’s wearing a sleeveless green minidress, and even though her breasts and upper thighs are covered, she’s never felt so exposed in her life.

“I’m not afraid.” She meant for the words to come out bold and brash, the way she usually manages when she’s fighting with Kylo, but they slink out of her on a breathy whisper. Her entire body is betraying her: her nipples strain against the fabric, and she really wishes she was wearing underwear, because she’s disturbingly wet. In retrospect, she’d rather have panty lines than slick arousal trickling down her inner thigh.

“Oh, you are,” he says. “You’re good at lying to yourself, but not to me.” He pulls back just enough to look at her, taking in the way she trembles and presses herself further back into the wall. His gaze trails lower, locking onto her breasts and the tight points of her nipples, and his lips quirk. “Well, well,” he says. “Looks like fear isn’t the only thing you’re feeling.”

-*~~~*-

“That was my lead,” Rey shouts, fists planted on the table as she leans in and rips into Kylo Ren.

He’s standing opposite her, his pose an exact mirror of her own. “You didn’t put it in Salesforce. I did. That makes it mine.”

“I was about to, you fuck!”

“Whoa,” Finn says. Like the other sales leads in this meeting, he’s watching them with wide-eyed alarm, leaning as far away from them as he can get while still seated. “That’s strong language.”

“That’s three-hundred thousand dollars Ren just stole out from under me,” Rey snaps. “I’m entitled to some strong language.”

“How was I supposed to know you were cultivating them?” Kylo demands. “You didn’t log it in the fucking system.”

“They reached out to me this morning! I was working on a proposal.”

“And then they reached out to me. Looks like you weren’t responsive enough.”

“It had been four hours, goddammit. I was in a meeting!”

He shrugs, utterly unrepentant. “If you didn’t respond to them and didn’t log the opportunity in Salesforce, that’s your problem, not mine. I’m just doing my job. You should consider doing yours.”

Rey practically sees red. “Why, you—”

“Stop,” Luke Skywalker says, interjecting at last. The grizzled man looks bone-deep exhausted, but he always does when Kylo and Rey start going at it. “This isn’t productive. The two of you go hash out your issues in conference room B and let the rest of us talk in peace.”

Rey’s a little embarrassed at being sent away like a child throwing a tantrum, but she’s seriously pissed. She storms out of the room, heading for conference room B. It’s soundproofed, which is undoubtedly why Luke suggested it.

Kylo quickly catches up, each of his ridiculously long strides accounting for two of hers. He starts to say something, but Rey raises a hand, cutting him off preemptively. “Not another word until we’re in the room.”

Mercifully, he stays silent until the door shuts behind them. Then he practically explodes. “What the fuck? You can’t just call me out like that in front of my boss.”

“You mean your uncle?” This is just one more reason to hate him—the nepotism that got him where he is today. Sure, Snoke initially hired him, but Luke’s the one who promoted him when he took over the company. Luke spends a ridiculous amount of time mentoring Kylo, in fact, all in the name of ‘facilitating his redemption and erasing Snoke’s toxic influence’ or some nonsense like that. “I would hate for the holidays to be awkward just because your family has finally realized what a shark you are.”

He storms towards her and actually grips her upper arms. Rey freezes. He rarely touches her—seems to go out of his way to avoid it, in fact. Even brushing fingers while passing her a report seems like too much contact for him, and he always jerks away as if he finds her disgusting. Now, though, he’s gripping her tightly, and the warmth of his fingers sinks through her delicate silk blouse.

“You’re a hypocrite, Rey.” He’s using her first name—that’s how mad he is. They only call each other by their first names when they’re really fucking pissed at each other. “You may hide it better, but you’re just as vicious as me.”

She gapes at him, outraged he would even imply they were similar in any way. “I’m not vicious—”

“What do you call preemptively calling that lead Poe was speculating about?”

Rey’s cheeks heat. “Poe is a terrible salesman and completely disorganized. We both know he wasn’t actually going to reach out to them.”

Kylo snorts. “Sure. What about how you internet stalked that tech company’s CEO and learned all about her kids so you could casually bring up things they like during a business dinner?”

“Um, research?” Yeah, Rey researches her prospective clients’ lives thoroughly in order to make the most charming impression possible, but that’s normal, right? “Unlike you, I try to succeed through winning people over, rather than terrifying them.”

Her hands are wrapped around his forearms. When did that happen? His muscles flex under her fingers, and a shiver races over Rey’s body.

“Well, I call it being disingenuous,” Kylo says. “You’re pretending to care about people to get their money. How is that more ethical than sharing cold, hard facts with them?”

“Everyone pretends to care about people,” Rey says. “It’s part of the social contract. Otherwise we would all just race around taking whatever we want and being inexcusably rude.” She hums consideringly. “I suppose that is what your life is like, come to think of it.”

He laughs a little, but he doesn’t sound amused. “The social contract. Lovely. Does that help you sleep better at night?”

She has to crane her neck to look up at him. How have they drifted so close? Rey’s hands land on his chest as if to push him away, but for some reason they freeze there, her fingers curling around his lapels. “I sleep just fine, thanks,” she says, but the vitriol she feels doesn’t quite make it into her tone. Her stomach churns with the force of her anger, and her skin feels hot and tight.

“Do you?” Kylo’s voice lowers, too. “You sleep just fine in your lonely bed, feeling self-righteous about manipulating money out of people?”

The ‘lonely bed’ comment stings, and her cheeks burn. She’s single and he knows it, like most of the office knows it. People who put in the hours they do don’t have time for dating. “We do good work for our clients,” she says, struggling to hang on to the thread of the argument. “It’s a fair exchange.”

He chuckles again. Rey’s lower belly tenses at the dark sound. “It’s capitalism,” he says, “not a cause. Everyone scrambles to get the best deal possible, even you.” He leans down a little, head tilting towards hers, and to Rey’s horror, her eyes flicker half-closed and her lips part. What is she doing?

Kylo is silent for a long moment, just breathing heavily and staring at her lips. “The only difference between you and me,” he says, “is that I’m honest with myself. Hate me for it if you want, call me out for playing by the rules of our industry, but I’m not going to apologize. I saw an opportunity and I took it. Next week you’ll do the same to me. It’s just business.”

Whatever it is, it doesn’t feel like just business. Not the way they’re holding each other, eyes locked and breathing labored. Not the way his fingers flex on her shoulders or the way hers tighten in his suit jacket. Not the way their lips hover torturous inches apart while their eyes burn into each other.

Rey feels as if she’s under a spell. Her gut tightens with a want so intense it terrifies her. She can’t be feeling this, can’t let him have this part of her, can’t let herself want what promises to only bring pain.

She breaks out of his hold and steps back, struggling to get her breathing under control. “Fine,” she says, looking everywhere but at him. “You win this one. But I’m going to get you back.”

Kylo looks oddly disappointed, but then his lips curl up on one side. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

-*~~~*-

Kylo slowly bridges the distance between their bodies, eyes holding hers while he steps as close as he can get. Rey shudders at the feel of his erection brushing her lower belly. Then one of Kylo’s muscled thighs presses between hers, shifting the short hem of her dress up, and she gasps as he nudges her clit. Pleasure spears through her.

“You want this,” he says softly. “You’ve always wanted it. And that scares the shit out of you.”

“N-no.”

He rocks that thigh against her, and Rey’s subsequent moan belies her denial. She’s burning up from just this, from his arms braced beside her head and his eyes pinning her in place as he slowly, gently nudges the sensitive spot between her legs.

“Every time we fight, I think about what we could be doing instead,” Kylo says. “All that passion locked up inside you... What if you were able to let it out?”

-*~~~*-

Rey gets him back three weeks later.

She overhears him telling Mitaka about a change of leadership at a local tech company and his plan to submit a proposal immediately, so she decides to get a jump on him. She heads to their offices and walks straight in with her best smile and an offer so bold, they can’t refuse. From reading interviews with the new CEO, she knows he admires moxie, ambition, and out-of-the-box thinking, and sure enough, the tactic works. He signs a contract with her not two hours later.

She texts Rose, and when she gets back to the office, she finds everyone already gathered around the office bar. They raise a toast to her, cheering her daring strategy.

Kylo glares at her from across the room. His arms are folded across his massive chest, and a muscle in his jaw twitches as if he’s grinding his teeth. Rey smiles sweetly at him, then bats her lashes for good measure before heading to Finn to accept a celebratory martini.

“It was simple,” Rey explains to her fellow sales leads as they ask her how she did it. “I just had to do the research, then walk in there and charm him.” She meets Kylo’s burning gaze across the room. “It’s just business.”

That gets him. His entire face seems to twitch, and then he pushes off the counter and storms away. The distant slam of a door announces that he’s gone into one of the conference rooms—probably to vent his frustration on some innocent furniture. Rey grins and raises her glass silently after him.

The party wraps up two hours later, and people head home. Rey packs up her things, swaying slightly as she stuffs her laptop into her bag.

“You’re not driving like that.” Kylo’s judgmental voice comes from behind her. When Rey turns around, she sees him standing behind her like the Grim Reaper, with his black suit and murderous glare.

“I will have you know,” Rey says, pointing at him, “that I’m ordering a Lyft. I can certainly afford to, considering the raise I’m probably going to get after landing this client.”

His fist clench at his sides. He looks around—probably checking to make sure everyone else has gone home, which they have—then rips into her. “You heard me with Mitaka, didn’t you? I should have known you’d pull something underhanded like this. Little Miss Hypocrite, who always gets what she wants.”

“Not always,” Rey says, embracing the familiar flicker of rage in her chest. She never feels more alive than when she’s arguing with Kylo. “I didn’t get the last lead.”

“For the last fucking time, I was doing my job!” He’s in her face now, finger shaking at her in a way her alcohol-sodden mind finds very entertaining. She giggles, and Kylo’s face contorts into an indignant expression. “What are you laughing at?”

Rey shakes her finger, mocking him. “Naughty, naughty Rey,” she says, lowering her voice dramatically. “How dare you use the Kylo Ren strategy to get what you want?”

His nostrils flare. “Are you?”

“Am I what?”

He leans in. “Naughty.”

The word sounds filthy rolling off those plush lips. Rey’s brain short circuits, and she ends up staring greedily at his lips. “Well, I got what I wanted, didn’t I?” she asks that lush curve.

He mashes his lips together. God, he’s beautiful. Like some fucking corporate Snow White. Rey tracks the beauty marks peppering his pale skin, the wavy fall of his black hair, his strong brows.

“And what did you want?” he asks.

She blinks, returning to herself, and forces herself to stop appreciating his diabolical hotness when there’s a fight to be had. “To get the sale, obviously.”

He steps closer. “Are you sure you didn’t just want to piss me off? Get me back for taking a client out from under you?”

Rey’s lips curve. “Why not both?”

To her surprise, he smirks back at her. “So you’re finally being honest with yourself. How honest can you be, I wonder?”

She blinks and sways a little. Wow, that third martini really took a toll on her. “What do you mean?”

His hand settles on her waist, hot and heavy. Why is he touching her? “You’ve admitted you wanted revenge,” he says. His lashes lower, a lush, dark sweep over those mesmerizing eyes. “What else do you want, Rey?”

Her heart is racing, and a familiar throbbing starts between her legs. This argument is turning her on. “I want a lot of things,” she says, trying to keep her tone light. “World peace. A puppy. A higher employer match percentage for my retirement account.”

He bites his lower lip, and she trembles at the thought of him biting _her_. Fuck, where is this horniness coming from? Can she blame the martinis?

It isn’t the martinis, though, and she knows it.

“You want other things, too,” he says, settling his other hand at her waist. They’re so big, they practically wrap around her. She feels small compared to him, delicate, even though she knows she isn’t. “So tell me, Rey, if you have the courage. What do you imagine when you’re all alone? What makes your heart race? What do you _really_ want?”

“Everyone wants things,” she says unsteadily. It doesn’t make much sense as an answer, but she can’t think. Her fingers twitch—she wants to reach out for him, to grab him and jerk him into her embrace...

She can’t, though. This is her nemesis.

“The difference between _everyone_ and _you_ ,” Kylo says, “is that you can actually have what you want, if you're brave enough to admit it.”

Is he saying what she thinks he’s saying? She stares at him, frozen by the way he’s looking at her like he wants to eat her alive. Her mouth is dry; she licks her lips, and his gaze falls to them. He shifts forward…

Rey’s phone rings, loud and jarring in the quiet office. Rey jumps, then turns to rummage in her messenger bag. Kylo’s hands slide off her waist, and Rey is both grateful and furious at having the tension between them break.

She eyes the screen, then answers. “Hey, Finn. No, I’m going to take a Lyft. Oh, the Batuu Brewpub? Yeah, I can meet you there.”

She hangs up, then slips the phone back into her purse. “Well,” she tells Kylo, “it was lovely beating you at your own game, but I have some more celebrating to do.” She pushes past him before she falls back into his gravitational pull, but his voice follows her out the door.

“One day,” he says, “you’re going to tell me what you want. One day, you’re going to beg for it.”

She doesn’t dignify that with a response.

-*~~~*-

Rey’s eyelashes flutter. She can hardly focus on Kylo’s words, too caught up in the feel of him between her legs. The back of her head comes to rest against the wall, and she sags, letting him take more of her weight. He’s strong—he can support her. Just like he can take whatever she dishes out. She never has to worry about breaking him, hurting him, being too _much_ for him.

“I see it,” he says. “Your anger and your ambition. Your desire and your loneliness. It keeps you up at night, doesn’t it? All that pent-up energy… You want to feel so intensely that there can be no doubt you’re alive. You want so much, and you’re afraid no one’s ever going to be able to give you what you truly need.”

Rey breath hitches at the words. She feels like some shelled creature that’s been pried open, like all her most vulnerable parts are on display. How can he know her this well, when all they’ve done is shout at each other for months?

One of his hands moves from the wall down to her hip, his fingers curving around her ass. He tugs her forward just a bit, holding her in place as he grinds his thigh against her harder. “You think no one knows who you truly are,” he says. “But I do. Because I feel it, too. All of it.”

“Kylo.” His name falls from her lips like a prayer. This feels so good, like the answer to a question she’s been asking every moment of every day, like a puzzle piece slotting into place, showing her a picture she’s only seen in glimpses.

“Are you ready to tell me what you want?” he asks, mouth a hairsbreadth from hers.

The tether holding Rey back finally snaps. In response, she sinks her hand into his hair and tugs his mouth down to hers.

-*~~~*-

Rey walks into the holiday party feeling, as the Americans would say, like a million bucks. She’s wearing a tight green minidress with lace cutouts darting down from her neckline and up each thigh, along with strappy heels that reveal the starry tattoo on top of her foot. She’s had a freakishly successful Q4 and is the company’s top salesperson, barely edging out Kylo Ren. All in all, it’s been an amazing year, and she’s going to close it out with champagne, laughter, and some well-deserved relaxation.

She snags a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter and sips, closing her eyes in bliss at the sweet fizz in her mouth. When she opens them, she sees Kylo staring at her from the other side of the dance floor.

He looks the same as always, wearing a pitch black suit that mirrors his intense personality. He also looks really bloody good. Rey eyes the massive hand currently wrapped around a champagne flute. The flute nearly disappears in his grip, and she wonders what his hand would look like wrapped around her throat, instead.

This burning curiosity she feels about Kylo Ren is unacceptable, but she can’t help it. She thinks about him a lot, especially late at night, when an urgent, unspoken need keeps her awake. She thinks about his shoulders and hands, about his eyes and lips, about the bulge she spied beneath his slacks during one of their more intense arguments. Her head is filled with him, and she hates it.

She turns around, not wanting to look at him. Tonight is about having fun, not obsessing about the nemesis who haunts her erotic dreams.

And she does have fun, for a while. She laughs with Rose and Finn, dances with Poe, has a heart-to-heart with Luke where he tells her how proud of her he is. She eats canapes and drinks another glass of champagne—not enough to get drunk, but enough to make the world seem a little softer around the edges.

A slow song comes over the speakers, and Rey smiles fondly as she watches Rose and Finn scamper onto the dance floor together, along with other couples. Everyone was allowed to bring a plus one, but since Rey doesn’t have anyone in her life besides her coworkers, she came alone.

It’s a sad thought, but not an unfamiliar one. Rey’s never had a family or many friends, but she’s carved out a fulfilling life for herself, regardless. Sure, she works all the time, but she makes good money, and she’s good at what she does. It’s enough.

She’s staring at her feet, wiggling her toes to admire the sparkle of her gold-painted toenails, when a hand enters her field of vision. A very big hand.

“May I have this dance?”

Her head snaps up, and there Kylo is, standing beside her with his hand held out as if this is totally normal, as if they’re the kinds of friends or coworkers or whatever who dance with each other. As if him holding her isn’t the kind of catastrophe that will send Rey into a tailspin of lust and anger for days.

“What?” she asks blankly.

He rolls his eyes. “You. Me. Dancing. It isn’t that complicated, Johnson.”

When she just stares at him, still frozen by the thought of him touching her, he sighs and grabs her hand, dragging her onto the dance floor. Apparently his politeness only goes so far.

He arranges her into a dancing frame, shifting her hands and body until he’s satisfied with her positioning—of course he’s bossy about this, just like everything else—then starts leading her into what she vaguely recognizes as a waltz. She knows just enough to manage a one-two-three one-two-three box step, but to her surprise, his lead is firm enough that he successfully guides her into a spin.

“Why do you know how to dance?” she asks, startled by this previously unknown talent of his.

“I know lots of things.” He smirks at her. “If you’re lucky, you’ll learn what else I can do.”

Rey doesn’t know how to interpret that statement. She turns it around in her head, then discards it, not liking how it makes her pulse speed and her entire body thrum with anticipation. “Why are we dancing?” she asks instead. “You hate me.”

He pulls her tighter against him, then slows them until they aren’t waltzing anymore, just swaying from side to side. Over Kylo’s shoulder, she sees most of the office gaping at them, just as confused by this turn of events as Rey is.

“I don’t hate you,” he says quietly, and her attention snaps back to him. The way he looks… It’s like some filter over her eyes has fallen away, and she’s seeing him clearly for the first time. His expression seems earnest in a way it never has before, and while he still exudes restless intensity, it doesn’t feel hostile. The way he’s looking at her seems…

It seems like something she’s scared to examine too closely. Things have never been simple between them, but this… this screams _complicated_ in a way Rey isn’t sure she can manage.

He keeps talking, apparently taking her silence as encouragement to continue. “I never hated you,” he says. “And, if you’re honest with yourself, you never hated me, either.”

A little noise escapes Rey’s throat, something she can’t classify. She can’t classify _this_ , either. The way he’s holding her. The way he’s looking at her. The way he draws her attention, pulling her in like she’s a planet revolving around an angry sun. She wants to get closer, to press her front along his and finally feel everything she’s imagined for months. She wants to run away.

“So,” he says, exerting gentle pressure on her lower back. They’re already standing closer than coworkers should, and this light-hearted, relaxing evening is turning into something else. The energy between them crackles and sparks, heating the air and making her skin prickle with anticipation. “I think it’s time we stopped tiptoeing around this.”

It’s laughable to think either of them tiptoe around anything, but that’s not what seizes Rey’s attention. “This?” she squeaks.

He nods. “We both know what’s happening here.”

“We do?” Rey's never this inarticulate, but she can’t think around the roaring in her ears. She can talk complete strangers into dropping half a million dollars on her company without sweating, but this conversation makes her so nervous she feels like she might faint.

He smiles. It isn’t sweet—his smiles are never sweet—but it isn’t a cocky smirk, either. She can’t think of a way to describe it. “We do,” he confirms. “And before tonight is out, we’re going to resolve this. One way or another.”

The hand on her waist drifts slowly down until his pinky finger is stretched over the top swell of her ass. Lust and fear flood Rey so intensely she stumbles, and that’s it. She can’t do this. Not here, not in front of their colleagues, maybe not at all.

She breaks away from him and runs.

-*~~~*-

His lips are soft, but the way he uses them is anything but. He slants his mouth over hers, licking into her mouth as if he’s a conqueror claiming his rightful territory. Rey kisses him back just as ardently. This isn’t submission; it’s a mutual unleashing.

She grinds against his thigh, rubbing her swollen clit over him. He’s hiked her skirt up more, and now her bare pussy presses against his slacks, leaving slick streaks on the black fabric. She’s probably ruining his trousers, but she doesn’t care, and he doesn’t seem to, either. He guides her movements with the hand on her ass, his grip on her tightening when she moans into his mouth.

“That’s it,” he says when they break for breath. “Ride me, Rey. Use me to come.”

A tremor races over her from head to toe, raising the hairs on her arms and making her entire body tingle with erotic energy. She claws him closer, one hand still gripping his hair tight as she slides a hand under his suit jacket and down over his ass. The muscled curve tenses under her touch, and it’s not enough, she needs more, more, _more_ …

“Please,” she begs in a broken voice. “I need you, need this, need this so bad…”

“Shh,” he soothes, kissing down her neck. “I have you. I’m here.”

The reassurance doesn’t make sense on its surface—of course he’s here, she’s grinding on his thigh and trying to drag his head back up to kiss her again—but it hits her on a profound level. He’s _here_ , and he’s not leaving. He _has_ her. She can let go.

Rey comes from the hard grinding, the orgasm fast and bright. Enough to make her shake and gasp, but not enough to wring her dry. If anything, her need is intensified. “ _Please_ ,” she begs.

Kylo swears, then picks her up, anchoring his hands below her ass. He carries her to the conference table and lays her down. “Holy shit,” he says, staring down at her exposed crotch.

“Take off your clothes,” she demands, already struggling up into a seated position to try to unzip her dress.

Rather than complying, he flips her over onto her belly so she’s bent over the table. Then he drags the zipper on her back down, fast but not fast enough. She wants to be naked with him _now_.

He unthreads her arms and works the dress over her hips. Rey wriggles, half-helping, half-hindering the effort. She reaches back and gets a handful of erect cock through his slacks before he grips her wrist to stop her. His free hand smacks her exposed bottom, and she yelps in surprise, then shoves her ass back for more.

“I’m in charge,” he says, spanking her again. It isn’t hard enough to hurt, isn’t even as hard as Rey really wants it, but it sends a lightning bolt of pleasure down to her pussy.

She turns her head and glares over her shoulder, baring her teeth at him. “You wish.”

He laughs outright. “I knew it would be like this. It’s always a fight with you.”

He holds her down with a hand on her lower back while he finishes stripping the dress off of her, leaving her completely naked. He groans. “Look at you. Fucking perfect.”

Before she can beg him to strip his own clothes off and fuck her already, he bends over her and grips her hair to turn her head to the side for a bruising kiss. He covers her completely, all that dark fabric pressing against her. It’s oddly erotic, being naked while he remains fully clothed. She nips his lower lip, harder than she would have dared with anyone else, but he likes it. He groans and jerks against her, rubbing that hard cock against her ass.

“More,” she says. “Need to feel you.”

His weight lifts off her, and then there's a flurry of curses and flapping fabric before his bared chest comes to rest against her back. She shivers and undulates against him, trying to press her entire spine against that muscled expanse. It’s driving her crazy, being able to feel him but not see him, and she makes a distressed sound.

“What is it?” he says, smug bastard. “Is something not to your liking?”

She huffs and bucks her hips back hard against him, making him grunt. “I’ve fantasized about this for months,” she says baldly, all pretense gone. “Don’t make me wait to see you.”

The words must get to him, because he shudders against her, then pulls back to flip her over. He tries to press her flat against the table, but she fights him to stay in a seated position so she can admire every inch of him.

And oh, what a sight it is. His chest is chiseled, all that alabaster flesh honed to perfection. He’s a big man by nature; she can’t imagine the work that went into making his body look like this. She loves the way his face looks, too, flushed with want. Even though the room is dim, illuminated only by the reflected moonlight through the window and the faint glow from the hallway, she can see the blush of need on his skin.

There’s only one thing that would make the view better. She nods at his slacks. “Take those off. Show me your cock.”

He makes a needy sound that shoots straight between Rey’s legs, then attacks his fly. He shucks off the trousers and tight black underwear, then toes his shoes off clumsily before shoving the mass of fabric off.

She stares at what’s revealed. His cock juts out from his body, thick, long, and hard. She squeezes her legs together at the sight of it, feeling a mix of trepidation and excitement.

He grips her knees and shoves her legs back apart. “I get to look, too.”

They take each other in, both fully exposed for the first time ever. It isn’t just her physical shields Rey has lowered. He’s inside her already, filling her thoughts, the promise of him echoing in her body until every nerve screams for him to fill her already. “I need you,” she says. The truth at last, the one she’s been suppressing for months. “Please, Kylo.”

“Rey.” He breathes her name, then steps between her thighs. His fingers slip to her entrance, stroking through the wetness there before rising to circle her clitoris. “I need you, too. So badly. You’re the only one who understands.”

She nods, because she does understand. They’re formed from the same volatile material.

Then Kylo slides two fingers into her, the stretch already so good it’s nearly unbearable, and Rey groans and lets her head fall back. She braces her hands on the table, rocking her hips in time with the thrust and drag of his fingers inside her. Then his thumb joins the action, rolling over her clit in firm circles, and she can’t stop the moans tumbling out of her. The door is open—if any of their coworkers chance upon this dark hallway, they’ll hear her, but Rey doesn’t care. Nothing can stop this.

“You feel so good,” Kylo grunts, working her harder. “I’ve imagined this for so long. My fingers in you, my tongue on you, my cock…” He makes an angry sound that riles Rey up even more. “You’re a constant torment.”

“You, too, you insufferable bastard.” But the insult is said with a smile, and he chuckles accordingly.

“Now my tongue,” he says, slipping his fingers out of her, but Rey shakes her head.

“Your cock,” she corrects him. “Don’t make me wait any longer.”

“Fuck.” He fists himself, looking tormented. “I don’t have a condom.”

Rey doesn’t care. Kylo, for all his flaws, has at least always been honest with her. “Are you clean? If you are, let’s do this.”

“Yes.” His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. “It’s been… well, it’s been a long time.”

“For me, too,” Rey confesses. Longer than she cares to remember. She’s never had time, and no one else has ever particularly lit a fire inside her. It was easy to go without sex—or at least, so she’d thought, until she met Kylo.

He smirks at her, but for once, the expression doesn’t annoy her. “Then let’s fix that."

She wraps her legs around him, then pulls him closer and combs through his dark hair, loving the silky feel of it between her fingers. He lines himself up with her, stroking over her drenched pussy with the tip of his erection before notching it inside her opening. Then he’s sinking in, inch by delicious inch, and he’s so big it’s like a shock to the system. She gasps and tightens her fingers in his hair, hanging on while he works his way into her with small thrusts.

Finally, she’s taken him as deep as he’ll go. Her body throbs, her sensitive inner walls clenching around him as if testing the width of this massive thing she’s allowed inside her.

Kylo hisses in a breath, then exhales on a guttural groan. “You’re so tight, Rey.”

She shifts her hips, testing the fit. He reaches places deep inside her she’s never been able to reach on her own. It’s a heady pleasure, being stuffed full of him. She thinks of puzzle pieces again, of how some pictures aren’t clear until a final piece slips into place.

This one is brilliantly, beautifully clear. She sighs happily, then grins up at him. “Well?” she asks with some of her trademark sass. “Are you going to fuck me or what?”

He huffs, then pulls out in a long, delicious drag. When he surges back in, Rey’s entire body comes alight.

“Yes!” she gasps, clinging to his shoulders. “God, yes.”

He does it again and again, plunging into her with long, even thrusts that speak of his strength and stamina. Rey delights in the punishing possession, urging him on with rocking hips and the pinch of her teeth in the skin between his neck and shoulder. He jerks at the bite, thrusting into her more sharply, and she gasps as he hits even deeper.

“Tell me you want this,” he says as he methodically wrecks her. “Tell me you need it.”

“I do,” she moans, too lost in him and the pleasure he’s delivering to even think about denying him. “I want it. I need it.”

“Tell me you want _me_.”

There’s a desperation to his tone that tells her he isn’t as controlled as he appears. His hips churn rhythmically, but when she meets his eyes, they’re wide and wild. Desperate.

Rey recognizes why he needs to hear this. It’s an echo of the way she feels herself, sometimes, whenever she realizes she’s a little too intense. If she’s been single for years, it can’t all be the fault of her job, right? Some of it must be related to her. To the way no one has ever seemed to stick around to love her.

If Kylo feels that way, too, then Rey will do anything to fix it. She knows the bite of loneliness too well. “I want you,” she says, then gasps as he slams into her particularly hard. “So much. I always have. Even when you drive me crazy—”

He punishes—or rewards—her with another hard jerk of his hips. She loves the sensation of him losing control, so she eggs him on.

“You make me so mad, and I love it,” she says, sinking her nails into his upper back. “I want to fight with you for-fucking-ever. I want to fight you and then fuck you until you can't talk anymore. I want to _— oh!_—to taste you and scratch you and make you mine. I— _ah!_ —I’ve fantasized about it before, when we’re fighting. About having the aftertaste of your cum in my mouth while we’re screaming at each other in front of everyone, and— _oh my God, Kylo, yes, just like that_ —”

He sets a brutal pace, hammering into her so hard she can’t speak. Stuttered cries fall from her mouth in time with his thrusts, and she clings to him for dear life. One of his huge hands is on her backside, and the other one finds its way into her hair. He tugs her head back, making her neck arch almost painfully.

“You drive me _insane_ ,” he says. His voice is so deep and guttural it sounds barely human. “I want you, too. I always have. I’m going to fucking ruin you, Rey, until you don’t even think about anyone else, until you’re mine and no one else’s and I can have you whenever and wherever I want.”

He’s fucking the living daylights out of her, but Rey musters up words somehow. “Or I’ll have _you_ whenever and wherever I want,” she says, needing him to know this goes both ways. She’s just as greedy and temperamental and possessive as he is.

He grins. “I thought that was implied.”

“Shut the fuck up and make me come."

He obliges her, shifting the hand at her hip over until he can press a thumb against her clit. Rey clings to him as pleasure coalesces at that one point, all the hectic energy of their coupling gathering at the apex of her sex. His cock keeps dragging over a sensitive spot inside her, and she’s going to lose her mind, she’s going to scream…

The orgasm erupts like wildfire, burning through her so fast she only has time to bite down on his shoulder before she’s screaming. She jerks against him, her body clenching and quivering with release. It keeps going, the waves of bliss continuing to surge as he continues his assault on her clit.

Finally, she’s left limp and trembling. She releases her bite and buries her face in his neck, clinging to him while he fucks her harder, chasing his own release. He erupts with a shout, only belatedly clapping his hand over his mouth to stifle the sound as his hips jerk against her.

Rey’s still flying high, buzzing with endorphins as she holds him. He clutches her just as tightly, both arms now wrapped around her. He’s shaking, or maybe she is, or maybe they both are. Right now, it doesn’t feel like there’s much difference between them at all.

This is how it was always meant to be, Rey realizes through the pleasured haze. Kylo and Rey, Rey and Kylo. Two halves of a temperamental, ambitious, needy whole. “We wasted so much time,” she says. Maybe it doesn’t make sense, but it’s the only thing that comes to her.

Luckily, Kylo understands. Of course he does; he’s always understood. “We have,” he agrees. “But now we’re here, and we’re never going back.”

Rey smiles and nestles closer. She’s going to keep fighting Kylo Ren, but now she knows something sweeter, a realization that blooms in the humid air between them.

She’s going to love him, too.

**Author's Note:**

> 😘 love you Evi!


End file.
